Rope
by AriesReign
Summary: Someone from Riggs' past comes back to haunt him and without Miranda to ground him he might not survive this time. Now Roger must keep Riggs from throwing away his life in his quest for revenge. Riggs whump, detective story. Rated M (just in case) for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

I just cannot seem to quell the muse and so here is another Lethal Weapon piece. This one will be multiple chapters, I am not sure how long just yet. Please review if you have any helpful advice or suggestions. I will be posting at least once a week, however I can be persuaded to post more often if I know there's interest in the story so follows are appreciated and encouraged.

I try to stay as close to the characters motivations and world as I can. We already love this duo so I won't throw anything unbelievable their way.

Takes place one year into Riggs and Murtaugh's partnership.

All mistakes are my own.

I own nothing.

* * *

 **Rope**

Martin Riggs could feel the sun piercing though his eyelids, he could hear the surf crashing against the sand, and the remnants of whatever show he had left on the night before.

What he couldn't hear was the gentle sounds of his wife taking her morning shower, tip-toeing around so as not to wake him. He couldn't smell her alluringly comforting scent as she tried her best to kiss him goodbye while leaving him in peace or feel the gentle caress of her lips as she did so.

So many pieces of the mornings he used to take for granted. So many small, yet memorable moments that he could never again experience.

He decided waking was the shittyest part of the day and that this morning he just wouldn't do it. He remained a heap on the small yet familiar couch, his hair swept haphazardly over his forehead. The blanket he had clumsily wrapped himself in as he half sat half fell into his current sleeping position lay on the floor accompanied by the numerous empty beer cans he had demolished for dinner.

The light filtering through the windows finally won out and he reluctantly pried open his eyelids. Still clad in the clothing from the night before he rest his eyes on the counter top across from the couch. The intimate calling of his Beretta 92FS beckoned to him. It's sleek black edges leading to the trigger carried his thoughts to dark place. A place where waking without her would no longer haunt him.

The thought was cut off by the muffled chime of a cellphone, his cellphone. Where the hell WAS his phone? He grunted as he sat upright, the wrinkles in his shirt had left imprints in his skin and his careless sleeping position had gifted him with a crick in his neck.

The sharp tone of his cell called out again, this time Riggs upended the cushions in his frustration. He may have overdone it on the beer the night before, he didn't remember his phone ever being this loud.

The cell clattered to the ground. Martin scooped it up amongst a few choice words and answered.

"Riggs!" He greeted harshly.

"Jeez, Riggs. It's me, wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

"Sorry, Rog. Just, no, uhh. Whatcha need?"

"Need you to skip breakfast and head to the scene. We have a body. I will pick you up a coffee on the way, but I have to drop Trish off at work first...car troubles."

"Yeah, sure. Text me the address."

"Already did, see you in an hour."

Martin pocketed the cell and grabbed his Beretta from the counter without looking at it. He pushed the door of his trailer open but stopped short of the first step. He doubled back and grabbed a moderately clean shirt changing hastily on his way to the car.

* * *

The crime scene was a buzz with life. Martin realized just how ironic that was as he knelt down beside the body splayed out across the tarmac.

The already bad traffic had been made even worse due to all the gawkers attempting to get their fill of information to pass along in their mundane morning stories amongst co-workers. The press were even worse, filling every nook and cranny the small parking lot had to offer.

Riggs observed the uniforms attempting their best to disperse the crowd along with the press. It didn't seem to be working all that well.

He brought his attention back to the body. Male, he looked young, maybe early twenties. All together he looked rather average.

"Now, what did you do to piss someone off so bad?" Riggs asked the empty space around him.

"Isn't that your job to find out, detective?" Scorsese asked dryly as he placed his forensics kit beside the body.

Martin looked at the LAPD pathologist now kneeling across from him.

"I was actually thinking maybe you could do all the bad guy hunting for today, I kinda wanna finish this great novel I'm reading." Riggs retorted in his soft Southern drawl, a large smile lining his lips.

"I don't think Hustler Magazine counts as a novel." Scorsese shot back, not missing a beat.

"Aw, Scorsese that hurts man." Riggs brought his hand to his chest and feigned physical pain at the jibe. When the pathologist gave nothing but a blank stare, Martin continued. "So what can you tell me?"

After a few moments Scorsese gestured to the subtle marks on the dead man's neck.

"He was strangled, most likely by some kind of rope. I believe the killer came from behind and choked the life from him before he had a chance to realize what was happening. Of course, I won't know for certain until I have completed the tests." Scorsese offered in monotone as he took samples from the rope burns and collar of the dead man. "The bruising indicates a thin, but incredibly resilient rope was used. Again, I will have to test my findings before I can know for sure."

"Climbing rope?" Martin asked aloud without realizing.

"Could be, why?"

"Just a guess." Martin lied.

"Hey, I brought you coffee. I even got you a some fries, you sounded like you needed something to eat." Roger smiled handing Riggs his coffee and fries as he pushed further through the sea of people on scene.

"Don't suppose you brought one of those for good ol' Scorsese?" Scorsese asked sarcastically, already knowing he had been overlooked.

"Oh, er, Scorsese. Sorry man, I didn't realize you would be here." Roger offered in apology attempting to avoid the awkward conversation as he removed the lid of his coffee to allow it to cool faster. Blowing on the hot substance occasionally to avoid Scorsese's glare.

"At the crime scene? Where I work? Every day?" Scorsese dead panned in Rogers direction.

Riggs laughed and cupped his coworkers shoulder in sympathy before dipping a handful of fries in Rogers coffee and downing them in one fell scoop.

"Here, Scorsese, you can have mine. Rog can get me another on the way to the station." He left Roger mouth a gape in embarrassment and frustration.

"Damn it Riggs!" Roger yelled after him.

Martin laughed at his chaotic wake as he threw back a few more fries and headed for his car. He had a good idea of who had murdered the guy and if he was correct, he had an exciting reunion to plan for. he needed to make sure, he had waited a long time to nail this particular asshole and he wasn't going to let him get away again.

* * *

Roger made his way to Riggs' desk still half annoyed at his partner. Why he had to make every moment of Rogers existence painful he had no idea. What he did know was that he wasn't truly mad at him, in fact the whole thing had been kind of funny. That, Roger didn't mind at all. After all, laughter was good for a man. He just wished Riggs wouldn't use it to hide what was below all the joking and playfulness.

He knew the man was hurting. He just wanted to be able to read his partner well enough to know if he was about to do something stupid. Not fries in coffee stupid, but really? Who did that? It was the get himself shot kind of stupid that worried Roger.

Riggs was his partner and that meant he was also family. A year wasn't a long time to know somebody, not an average year anyways. But a year on the job, where your life and those around you were in jeopardy too often to count meant getting to know someone on a whole different level.

Riggs would die for him. Hell, he would die for Trish and the kids too. It was weather he would die for nothing that pushed Roger to worry.

"Hey, Scorsese said you said something about climbing rope?" Roger mentioned inquisitively.

"Hmmm, did I? I'm kind of busy here Rog. Can it wait?" Martin answered from behind his computer without looking up. His avoidance of the question didn't go unnoticed.

"Can the murder investigation we just arrived from and that has been assigned to us wait? What's gotten into you today Riggs?" Roger asked in agitation. Riggs behavior was starting to frustrate him more than normal.

Riggs decided to forego a civil conversation and roughly tugged Roger's arm until he was towing behind him. They stopped around a quiet corner beside the restrooms before Riggs gave his explanation.

"Look, Rog. I need this okay, if I let you in on what's going on you have to promise me you won't stop me." Riggs looked desperate, his normally disheveled hair couldn't quite decide which direction to fall, while his brown eyes seemed less vibrant than normal. It was obvious that he had slept in his clothing and the way he had devowered his fries led Roger to believe the man hadn't eaten dinner the night before.

Riggs looked haggard and it was only 10:30 in the morning. If even half of it was caused by something he had discovered at the crime scene Roger owed it to Riggs to hear him out.

"Okay, okay. Let me know what's going on." Roger stated reassuringly, doing his best in attempt to calm his partner.

"His name's Dane Kensington. The sonofa bitch killed six college kids in Texas back in 2012. Decided to hold up a library, a fuckin library Rog. He shot five of em. The last one, twenty year old kid, he did with climbing rope. Strangled her from behind, same MO." Riggs anger was boiling to the surface. He took a second to calm himself, to which Roger was grateful.

"Kensington got out before anyone was even able to alert the cops. Only reason we could tie him to it was because he missed one. A young girl, just twelve, there with her big sister, saw the whole thing. The asshole strangled her sister and she saw the whole fucking thing. Turns out we were able to tie him to three other murders with the same MO, the climbing rope was his quirk."

"So you caught the guy?" Roger offered hopefully. The glare he got in return told him there was far more to the story.

"We should have. The guy didn't have a solid address, he was a drifter. He was gone before we even had people looking. I talked to the kid Rog. The little girl, she was so scared but so damn brave. Gave us everything we needed to nail him, the rest was on us. Only we didn't find him. Ate me alive to know what that kid went through and knowing we let her down, I let her down." Riggs looked down at his hands, his gaze caught on the wedding band sitting around his finger.

"So he's still on the lamb? And now you think he's here in LA?" Roger attempted to redirect Riggs from the darkness pulling on him.

"He came back to Texas a couple years later," Riggs tone became hushed, Rodgers redirection had failed. Martin's eyes clouded as he spoke. "He found the girl Rog and he killed her just like he did the others. We missed him and he did it again. Right under our fuckin noses. She was fourteen Rog!"

"If it's him we just tell Avery and we go get him."

"It's not that simple, after the girl I went after him, hard. I spent every moment I had hunting him down. I got myself suspended and even that didn't stop me. I finally caught up with the asshole three months later in New Mexico. Was holed up in some old bar. The bastard took a hostage, I didn't have a shot. He made me toss my weapon, told me the girl was his favorite kill. I rushed him, but he fired, put two slugs in my upper chest and one in the hostage's head. I almost lost my badge and if it wasn't for..." Martin trailed off his eyes once again captured by the metal holding his finger hostage. "If it wasn't for Miranda I would have lost a whole lot more than the that. I can't be caught anywhere near this and If Avery catches even a whiff of Kensington it will be over before its started. I can't let him get away again!"

Roger let the words sink in. He thought Riggs was reckless now, he had no idea this one went so deep. He had to be careful, Kensington may be too good of an excuse for Martin to finally just give in.

"I'm with you Riggs, but if we do this we do it my way, you hear me? No running into bullets and diving into this head first. We play it smart, you do that and I'm in. Avery doesn't have to know a thing."

Martin's grateful glance was all Roger needed to know he had made the right decision. He only hoped Riggs would listen long enough to stay alive and say thank you by the end of all this. Hell, he hoped he was there to hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rope**

Chapter Two

Riggs made his way hastily to his desk and grabbed a sheet of newly printed paper. He shoved the paper to Roger's chest and headed towards the elevator. When he didn't sense Roger following him he turned around to see what was holding him up.

"What are you doing? Let's go!" Riggs half pleaded and half ordered.

Roger scanned the slightly crumpled paper.

"This really where we're headed?" Roger asked as he made to join his partner.

Riggs just nodded, a small cheeky smile crossing his face. His eyes had regained some of their previously lost luster.

"I really don't want to have to deal with him today." Roger whined.

"Deal with who?" Avery asked as he made his way over to the duo.

"Oh, hey Captain. We, err, are following up a lead on the John Doe case from this morning." Roger responded uncertainly.

"Have to go see Buddy, he just called in a tip. He may be able to ID the vic. We're gonna go check it out now." Riggs chimed in snatching the paper back from Roger before bee lining it for the elevators once again.

"Okay then, try not to destroy anything on your way there or I'm taking it out of your paycheck." Avery yelled across the office.

"You don't pay us enough, Captain. We'll go hungry." Riggs shouted back as the elevator doors closed leaving them to their silence.

Roger remained quiet for a moment as they descended to the lobby.

"What?" Riggs asked innocently.

"Buddy knows where Kensington is doesn't he?"

"Yuuup."

"And you just lied to Avery."

"I did no such thing, Buddy might know who the dead guy is too." Riggs responded, slightly less certain than the moment before.

"Uh huh, what happened to doing this my way?" Roger asked more seriously.

"We can do it your way once we find him."

Roger stood for a moment, in his haste to avoid Avery he had overlooked something incredibly simple.

"Hey, how come we couldn't do this over the phone?" Roger asked hopefully.

"Aww, you know Buddy. He functions better in person" Riggs finished with a sly smile.

"It had to be Buddy..." Roger sighed.

"I don't know why you don't like the guy Rog, he's so...friendly." Riggs' grin lit up his face as he smirked and exited the elevator.

"You know, I think I will just shoot you myself." Roger muttered as he followed his partner out of the building.

* * *

Riggs made his way up to the sixth floor of the apartment building with Roger following behind him. He stopped at the third door down in the poorly lit and ineptly maintained hallway and knocked on the door.

There was shuffling for a few moments before the door slid open a crack revealing two heavily made up eyes and a long golden wig framing a pale face doused in far too many cosmetics.

"Martin, is that you my dear?" The overly feminine voice beckoned.

The door opened fully as a tall, scraggly man took a step into the hallway. His thin frame draped in a flowing green dress and his legs wrapped tightly in white stockings.

"Come in my dear, come in. Where is my lovely Roger?" He cooed.

Riggs peered his head out from the doorway and caught a glimpse of his partner not so stealthily hiding behind the wall of the stairwell, frozen as a deer in headlights.

"Will you come on!" He prompted with a harsh whisper and motioned for Roger to come out of hiding.

Roger moved away from the wall and gestured his disdain before planting his feet and folding his arms like a child about to tantrum.

"Here he is. Just takes him a while to get up those steps at his age." Riggs responded playfully to the man in the apartment.

The man hurried over to Roger's side as fast as possible in four inch heels and wove his arm around Roger's own before ushering him inside the small space.

"Oh! Roger I missed you so. How have you been? You look wonderful. I can see Martin has been taking good care of you."

"Hey Buddy, good to see you again." Roger greeted awkwardly.

"Silly goose, it's Beatrice, not Buddy. Remember? Beer as in drink and triss, as in kiss." Beatrice punctuated the last word with a distinctive pucker and looked longingly toward Roger.

Riggs attempted his best to stifle a laugh, enjoying his partners struggle all too much. A few desperate glances in his direction and he decided to help his friend out.

"Okay, Bu...eatrice. what can you tell us about Kensington?" He prodded.

Beatrice let go of Roger to depict his disgust for the man in question. His face turning sour.

"Oh, that horrible man, he smells like gasoline and body odor. No manners at all, as soon as he comes into town he starts making noise about being untouchable, bragging about getting away with it again." Beatrice's triad of complaints continued.

"What can you tell us of his whereabouts? Why is he here?" Roger inquired taking a stealthy step backwards.

''Well, that's why I called you. Other than wanting to see my dear Roger..." Beatrice shot another longing stare towards the older detective. "And to show you both my new place, of course. Ever so cozy, isn't it?"

"Kensington?! Beatrice. Kensington." Riggs pushed once more.

"Of course, the horrid man needed his fix. He came strait to Buddy. Spouting about not doing it right the first time and needing to finish what he had started. Said he wanted to find an old friend, a friend by the name of Martin Riggs. He asked if Buddy knew where to find you." Beatrice looked to Riggs this time, her demeanor much less playful. "He's a dangerous one Martin, unstable and out for blood. Please be careful."

Riggs' eyes flashed with malice for the man he held such a dark history with. The room faded and for a moment he saw Miranda's face before him, her hand wrapped around his own. She had granted him sanity throughout the entire ordeal. Now there was only emptiness to comfort him.

For a moment, he remained silently staring at nothing before he regained his composure. He let his shoulders drop and ran a hand through his hair placing it more towards the side. Roger must have sensed his discomfort, cutting in to give him a second to reboot.

"Did he tell Buddy where he would be staying?"

Beatrice's attention was torn from Riggs. He could see Roger regretting it almost instantly.

"He said he would be staying at the voyager for a few days. How anyone could stomach it I have no idea. You are such a brave and strong man to even think of going there, Rodger dear" Beatrice once again wrapped his arm around Rodger's possessively.

"Thanks, Buddy. We won't forget this." Riggs added shooting a quick glance towards Roger.

"Beatrice, Martin! How many times must I remind you? Buddy supplies, but Beatrice entertains!" With a grand swooping motion Beatrice presented himself dramatically, inadvertently freeing Roger.

Knowing it was his only out, Roger took a few large steps towards the door grateful for Riggs' assistance.

"Thank you, Beatrice. We really have to be going." Riggs added before making his way into the hallway.

"You can't stay?" Beatrice pouted.

"Sorry, bad guys to catch. Maybe next time." Riggs responded as he rushed back to the stairwell.

They left a disappointed Beatrice in the doorway as they made their way back to the car.

* * *

LA traffic lived up to its full potential as they made their way to one of the worst parts of town. Roger took advantage of the slow journey to look over to his partner in the passenger seat. The focus that consumed Riggs' composure was both reassuring and deadly. This was where things got difficult.

"Okay, so when we get there what's the plan?" Roger asked casually.

"I'm thinking we pull up to the hotel, maybe park, get out of the car, and here's the tough part Rog so pay attention...we find the sonofa bitch." The sarcastic essence of the remark was punctuated by a stern glare, the brown of Riggs' eyes holding amusement at Roger's expense.

"seriously, that's how far you got?!" Roger asked incredulously. "Riggs, this guy isn't playing around. for all we know he could be luring you to this place. we know he's looking for you." Roger's tone wasn't meant to be accusatory, but the tension rose at his words.

"Really Rog? You don't think I know that?! This asshole doesn't deserve the air in his lungs. I'm bringing him in if it's the last thing I do!" Riggs' tone was harsh and biting.

Roger knew the only way to deal with a criminal like Kensington was to do so cautiously. Unfortunately, Riggs was anything but.

"WE will bring him in, Riggs, together. Okay?" Roger pleaded calmly in attempt to reason with his partner. "I'm just asking you to be careful."

"When am I not careful?" Riggs asked.

"Hmm, let me see? The time you leapt off a building into another building attached to a witness. Or the time you jumped onto the back of a moving van hoarding stuffed animals. And who could forget the time you walked into a bank heist armed with boxes of pizza?! Should I go on? Because I can." Roger listed animatedly, his voice taking on a higher pitch with each statement.

Riggs looked puzzlingly at his partner. He opened his mouth slightly then closed it again before scratching his head and repeating the motion.

"Rog, how long have you known this about me and why am I only hearing of it now?" Martin accused acting overly wounded. "You would at least think my own partner would have set up an intervention or something. Do you not care about me at all?" Martin tilted his head to Roger, this time smiling innocently to his friend.

When all Roger offered in response was a condescending glare, Riggs shrugged and raised his hands in question.

"What?" He asked innocently.

"I'm pretending your not in the car anymore."

"Aww, come on Rog. Don't be like that." Riggs laughed.

Roger brought his attention back to the road and threw a prayer up to God that this assignment wouldn't be their last.

* * *

They pulled up to the downtown motel. The cracked paint across the outer building had seen better days and half of the front door was missing its glass. Only the Y in Voyager was lit on the tacky broken sign overhead as they passed into the foyer.

"Nice place." Rodger mentioned sarcastically as he pushed aside some trash with his foot.

The front desk was empty so Riggs proceeded to the stairs.

"Take the elevator." Riggs nodded over to the rusted double doors housing a multitude of stains each of questionable origin.

"That? Oh, hell no! I'm not going within ten feet of that. I'll take the stairs with you."

"What if he takes the elevator while we are on the stairs?" Riggs asked in exasperation.

"What if the elevator crashes to the ground and I die?" Roger complained.

"Fine, I will take the elevator, you take the stairs." Riggs suggested and jogged over to the elevator before Roger had a chance to advise against splitting up.

At the sight of the up button he decided it would be safer to push it with the sole of his boot. When the button didn't light up he waited a few moments, but nothing happened.

"Shit! Wait up Rog. Elevators out." He yelled ahead and rushed up the stairs.

Riggs reached the first floor curiously eyeing the frame to the stairwell void of its door. His boots made contact with something sticky on the floor as he proceeded to the hallway lined with aging wallpaper and crusty carpet. The place made Buddy's apartment look like The Ritz.

A man lay half conscious outside his room, drugged into oblivion. The remainder of the floor seemed to be empty. He assumed the place was busier in the early hours of the morning when the more sinister came out of hiding.

"Rog?!" Riggs called as he passed by closed doors on his left and right. He was on edge now, Rodger couldn't have gone far and his lack of response was worrying.

He pulled his gun from his lower back and held it low on his right side. With his free hand, he pushed open a slightly askew door waiting for it to hit the wall before entering the room.

At first glance the small space was barren but for the objects that he supposed could pass for a bed and night stand. Riggs looked past the old beaten furniture and spotted something out of place. The toes of a familiar dress shoe peeked out from the other side of the bed.

"Shit! Rog!" Riggs rushed over to find his partner laying prone across the floor. A nasty cut oozing blood on the crown of his head.

Riggs pushed his gun into the back of his jeans and began to turn Roger over, so focused on his partner's well-being he didn't hear the footsteps behind him.

A sharp slicing sensation made its way from his right shoulder blade to his tricep as the tip of a blade cut across his back. He spun around to face his attacker, only to be met with the barrel of his partner's gun, the Sig leveled at his chest.

Kensington stood feet from Riggs' face, an ugly smirk marring his features. His greasy blonde hair secured loosely in a ponytail and his attire composed of worn jeans and a wife beater that had seen better days. A sturdy, but thin red and white rope sat loosely within the loops of his jeans, secured to itself with a black carabiner.

He held a long narrow blade off to the side, blood slowly dripping off the edge. The stench coming off him made Riggs' skin crawl.

"Hey there, Detective." Kensington greeted with a sickening smile.

Riggs reached for the gun behind his back only to be met with the sound of gunfire as Kensington let off a round too close to Rodger's unconscious form for comfort.

"uh, uh, uh Detective. I wouldn't if I was you. Now be a good boy and slowly remove your weapon and toss it to your right, all the way to your right."

Riggs didn't move for a moment, still sifting through his options.

"Oh, I know that look. Last time I saw it I put two in your chest and killed a girl. This time it ends with a slug in your partner's head. If you think you're quick enough, go ahead." Kensington spat.

Riggs didn't care if he had to give his own life to get this guy, but he drew the line at Roger. His partner was off limits.

Riggs slowly removed his Beretta and tossed it unceremoniously to the side wincing at the pain the movement caused the torn skin on his back. His eyes never left Kensington's, the hate radiating off him in waves.

"Thank you!" Kensington shifted his aim slightly towards his right and fired.

Riggs felt the percussion of the bullet force him sideways. The impact hitting him in the shoulder and throwing him backwards. The collision pushed his injured back hard into the wall. He tried to stifle the groan as he felt the blood drip down the back of his shirt from the exit wound.

"Oh, this is fun! I was so upset when you didn't come after me again. I thought I had actually killed you. I was so happy when I discovered you were here in LA." Kensington waved the gun in manic motion as he spoke as if pointing out his surroundings. His posture loosened at Riggs inability to hold himself up without the aide of the wall behind him.

"better yet, you actually came to me! Do you know how many dealers I had to tell I was looking for you? I have more damn crack than I know what to do with. But hey, it worked. Which one was it by the way? I'm curious to know which little bitch you got on the payroll." Kensington held the gun loosely at his side as he waited for an answer.

Martin noticed the slightest twitch of motion from the corner of his eye. Roger was waking up. He needed to act quickly. He pushed an inch off the wall hoping Kensington wouldn't notice.

"None of them. I frequent this place often, I just can't say no to the continental breakfast." Riggs attempted to mask his rising frustration with an empty smile. All he had to do was wait for an opening and to do that he needed to keep Kensington talking.

Kensington paused for a moment as if contemplating weather Riggs' new attitude was sincere. He gave a shallow smirk, narrowing his eyes as he wagged the gun lazily in Riggs' direction.

"See? I can't quite pin you down Detective, that's what I like about yo…" Riggs pushed his hands upwards rapidly as he lunged forwards, forcing the gun to spiral out of Kensington's fingers.

It fell to the ground as Riggs threw another strike, this time to Kensington's face. The blow forced the criminal back as blood poured from his nose.

Riggs hit him once more in the kidney propelling Kensington to the side. He could feel the tightness in his shoulder slowing his movement, but he refused to stop.

The slight distraction gave his opponent just enough time to land a blow of his own. The half-forgotten knife plunged upwards as Riggs stalked closer, the blade landing low in his side.

Riggs ignored the fierce pain as Kensington pulled back the sharp edge and retreated uncertainly.

Riggs motioned to close the distance between them, but he listed to the side catching his weight on the bed. He brought his free hand to the blood-soaked area of his abdomen to quell the pain, agitated when it only intensified.

The sounds of a waking Roger forced Kensington further towards the door.

"Shit! Look what you made me do! You cut our playtime short, Detective. But don't you worry, I will find you again soon. I have so much in store for us." He promised with a blood covered smile.

Riggs watched, frozen in place. If he took his hand off the bed he was certain that he would fall.

A sudden wave of dizziness overcame him and as the edges of his vision blurred the cold wetness of his shirt made itself known. He watched the hazy figure disappear and heard the familiar call of his partner before he drifted into oblivion.

* * *

I enjoy cliff hangers, they give you something to look forward to. I do apologize, however, to all those who do not agree with me.

The Voyager was a hotel in downtown LA famous for its horrid conditions, it burned down not too long ago. I based the last scene there since it seemed like a place Kensington would frequent.

Expect the next chapter up by the end of the weekend. I will stick to a Sunday posting schedule, but during a slow week at work I will also be able to post midweek.

I am uncertain as to how long this story will be, but I can say I am not done with Martin just yet.

If you are enjoying the story please follow and favorite, it helps keep the creative juices flowing when I know I am writing for an audience.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rope**

Chapter Three

Roger sat in the private waiting room, his elbows pressing sharply into his knees as his stare bored holes into the opposite wall.

It had been two hours now and still nothing from the doctors. Avery had called for an update before they had even made it to the hospital, which had doubled as an interrogation on how Roger could be so stupid.

He had been told that Avery would stop by the hospital as soon as he could and Roger was anything but pleased by the promise.

He had called Trish three times now, if only for the words of comfort she had to offer. He had asked she not tell the kids about what had happened, but made sure the house had patrol cars standing by.

Kensington had put them all on edge and Roger wouldn't risk his family's safety for their convenience. Even if it meant Trish had to lie to the kids for a while.

A knock at the door had him on his feet, his eyes drifting to the floor before meeting the small framed face and dark brown eyes of Dr. Maureen Cahill.

She slowly shifted into the room and made her way towards him.

"you're not the type of Doctor I was expecting." Roger offered in greeting. A stale melancholy accompanying his words.

"No, I guess I'm not. But a necessary one none the less." Dr. Cahill responded grimly.

"look Doc. I understand what you're trying to do here, but I don't need a shrink."

"I'm not here for you, Detective. What you went through today must have been traumatic, but it's your partner that I'm worried about. His history with Kensington runs deep. However, your resistance to talking about what happened today could be a sign that it's affecting you more than you would like to admit, even to yourself." Dr. Cahill's tone was calm and unobtrusive, yet firm. The words prickled Roger all the same.

"Of course, it's affecting me! I woke up from being blindsided by a lunatic with a knife to find my partner passed out on the floor from bloodless." Roger trailed off. "he was so still; his clothes were just covered in the stuff. I thought he was gone, for a moment I didn't think…" Roger quieted bringing his fingers to the stitches lining the back of his head.

"It's natural to feel this way. Everyone has their own reactions to this type of trauma. The important thing is that you talk about it."

"Or what?! I turn into Riggs, leaping head first into every unsurvivable situation not giving a flying shit about the people I leave behind if I don't make it?" Roger's anger had gotten the best of him. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…I'm sorry."

Dr. Cahill didn't respond at first as if respecting Roger's need for space.

"Roger, I am not here to push. If you need to talk, you know where I am. Just remember some things he needs to hear too." She gave him a sympathetic smile.

Roger had a feeling that she felt just as he did. Helpless to protect a man hell bent on destroying himself. For each redeeming moment came one like this. One where Roger was forced to imagine life without his partner, best friend, and brother, even if only for a moment.

"I'm going to go get coffee. You want anything?" Cahill offered with a comforting half smile.

Roger simply nodded and went back to his chair.

He didn't know how much time had passed before the door opened once again, but he was grateful when it did.

"I'm Doctor Varone. Detective Murtaugh, I presume?" A strong yet feminine voice inquired. Two deep brown eyes glanced up from a busy clipboard. A long white lab coat covered a short yet slightly muscular frame, contrasting deeply against honey brown skin.

"Yes, how is he?" Roger rose once again waiting anxiously for the doctor to speak.

"Detective Riggs suffered from hypovolemic shock caused by blood loss from the combination of gunshot and knife wounds. We were able to stabilize him. He received one liter of isotonic crystalloid, and we replaced the blood he lost; he also received multiple stitches on his back. The gunshot wound was through and through, and the knife wound didn't hit anything vital. We would like to keep him for the next few days to monitor his recovery. He was very lucky, had the knife entered an inch to his left; he may not have made it." She listed the information carefully, yet compassionately. She reminded Roger of an older version of his daughter, Rhianna. He sighed audibly allowing his emotions to level for a moment.

"Thanks, Doc. When can I see him?"

"You can visit him now if you wish, he should be waking up within the next half hour." She offered gently. "One of the orderlies can show you to his room and give you any more information you require."

"Thank you."

The Doctor gave a subtle nod in response and left the room.

* * *

Riggs lay still as his senses teased him. He felt as if he was floating between sleep and consciousness; familiar faces drifted through his mind. Miranda moved her beautiful lips to greet him, but the words sounded muffled and harsh. Her dark, intense gaze stared at him longingly. Had he finally found what he had sought for so long?

The voices multiplied, they were out of place yet strangely comforting, he knew these voices. These were not the voices of the dead, but of people he knew.

"Captain, he would have found a way to get to Kensington. There was nothing I could have done to stop him. And even if I could have I'm not sure that I would have. Riggs has a history with this maniac; he deserves to be the one to bring him in."

Was that Roger? The words tumbled around and bumped into each other before becoming louder.

"Are you insane?! He almost got himself killed today and you as well. He was taken off the case for a reason. He was spiraling then and he is spiraling now. No, NO! I will not allow you to sway me on this! You are both off the case and get used to having uniforms on your asses because from this moment on I want two patrol officers accompanying the both of you at ALL times until we find Kensington! They will be outside of this door until Detective Riggs is released." A loud slam concluded the statement.

The muffled sound of a chair being upended and tossed across the room was accompanied by some harsh curses and an opening door.

Riggs could hear a new voice followed by one he often chose to ignore. He chased consciousness until the pieces began to fall into their usual place. His eyes remained closed as he listened to the conversation happening around him.

"I'm sorry, I have to check his vitals." A small feminine voice warned.

"Of course. Sorry, I…didn't mean to…" the rattle of a chair being set back into its rightful position accompanied the uncomfortable moment.

"How is he?" the soft tone of Dr. Cahill drifted across the room.

"They want to keep him for a few days; the doc said he lost a lot of blood. They want to monitor him." Roger sounded subdued. Riggs wished he could kick himself for dragging his partner into this nightmare.

The unfamiliar voice, which Riggs assumed to be a nurse, chimed in.

"He will need to limit his movement to avoid pulling his stitches. The dressings on his shoulder and abdomen will need to be changed twice daily, and any motion through his lower torso or shoulder will cause extreme discomfort until the wounds are healed. He should avoid any physical exertion for a while." The nurse listed as if asked.

A few more shuffling sounds and a short bout of awkward silence ended as the door opened and closed once more.

Riggs wondered what the nurse was talking about. He felt amazing considering he had just been stabbed and shot. Of course, Morphine could have that kind of effect on the body.

"Any leads on Kensington?"

"Patrol called in a hit on the BOLO. Said he was spotted near Arcadia Ave, but he managed to evade the squad car and get away. They are out looking now." There was a slight edge to Roger's tone, but Riggs wasn't sure if Cahill had picked up on it.

"How about we go get a bite to eat from the cafeteria? We won't be long. We can have one of the officers outside let us know if he wakes up before we get back." Cahill suggested softly.

Roger must have taken her up on the offer because all Riggs heard after that was the door once more.

He opened his eyes and stared at the white tiled ceiling. The emptiness of the room settled around him followed by the haunting memories of what he had lost in the overly sterile hallways of such a place.

The IV running to the back of his hand was the first to go. He quelled the swiftly dripping blood with his hospital gown before searching for the clothing he had come in with.

He spotted a small plastic bag under the night stand and shifted his weight off the bed. The first ripple of pain came from his abdomen. He took a moment to adjust his breathing before grabbing the bag and ripping his blood covered shirt from within. Realizing the shirt wouldn't work, even by his standards, he searched for another option while putting on his jeans.

Riggs' body rebelled at the motion, and he was grateful for the drugs still running through his system.

He found Roger's jacket sitting neatly across the back of a chair and grabbed it, slowly draping it over his injured shoulder.

This time the twinge rose to a piercing shock, he ignored the pain and placed his opposite arm into the jacket with a muffled moan.

A swift shift of his hair with his good arm and he began to search for his options. The door was blocked by a uniform, and he saw no other exits until he did.

He marched over to the window of the small room and looked down. Three floors, that was incredibly doable. For someone who hadn't just been shot and stabbed. Luck just wasn't his friend today.

The street below looked empty enough; his room didn't have a great view, but it was a quiet one.

He was certain the climb would be impossible with only one arm and without a rope. So he set about finding the latter. He eyed the closet across the room and pillaged a stack of crisply folded sheets, weaving them together as well as a boy scout and began lowering them out the window.

Riggs secured one end to the metal bed frame and started his descent. He wondered what he would look like if anyone caught him abseiling from his hospital room in blood-spattered jeans and a slightly too large dress jacket hanging open with nothing beneath it but the dressings of his injuries. He smiled at the thought, despite his situation.

The pain rose a few notches as he was forced to use his injured arm to lower himself. Two stories down, only one to go, he reassured himself.

A sudden bout of dizziness struck him like a moving truck. He closed his eyes to quell the sensation as his grip loosened on the sheet acting as his lifeline.

He slid a foot or so before closing his hands tightly around his makeshift ladder, his heart almost jumping out of his chest as he stopped his nearly fatal plunge. He felt the familiar tug on his shoulder and back and cursed at the burning sensation flooding his palms. There go my stitches.

He let out a nervous chuckle and started downwards once more. When his boots hit the ground, he backed up against the concrete of the building in relief, regretting the motion almost instantly.

He hissed as a wave of pulsing fury tore through his shoulder. Riggs took a step away from the wall and waited for the pain to subside once again.

He brought Kensington's face to mind, the image of the man's sickening grin as blood ran over his teeth renewed Riggs' drive to hunt him down. He couldn't put Roger in danger again; he had made a mistake in letting his partner in on this. He couldn't forgive himself if he let someone else he loved die. This was his fight, and he would finish it the way he had started it all those years ago, alone.

He fastened a few buttons of his borrowed jacket and began to make his way to Arcadia Ave.

* * *

"Look, of course, I'm worried about him, I just think this should be his call," Roger argued. He was becoming tired of pleading his partner's case.

He wholeheartedly believed that Riggs needed to be a part of this. Maybe marching in head first without backup hadn't been the best way to do it, but it had to be done. When Riggs woke, he wasn't going to just let this go.

"This is the same thing that happened four years ago. Riggs took it into his own hands to hunt down Kensington and went in without backup. He almost died then, and he could have died today. Last time he had Miranda, this time…"

"He has me!" Roger finished.

"Not to be a buzzkill, but that didn't help all that much." Dr. Cahill warned.

"No, you're right. But this time we know what to expect, we BOTH know what to expect. I've got his back."

"Kensington could have decided to kill you just as easily as he did his last victims. You are lucky he didn't."

"He didn't because Riggs had my back. Look, there's no way for you to understand this. I won't let him lose to Kensington; he's lost far too much already." Roger wanted to end this conversation. "we should get back, he might be awake by now." He suggested starkly.

Cahill trailed behind Roger as he marched back up to Riggs' room. He nodded to the officer beside the door and made his way inside.

The chill from the open window forced the air from his lungs.

"what the? He didn't…" Roger stuttered as he stared at the empty hospital bed.

Cahill stood stunned into stillness.

"He climbed out the fucking window?!" He wasn't sure who he was asking, and he didn't expect an answer.

"Still think he should be on the case?" Cahill offered as she found her voice.

Roger brushed past the doctor, his frustration growing to new heights as he tried to surmise where his partner could have gotten to.

* * *

"He did what?! Avery yelled across the line." Roger had headed straight for his car the moment he had put two and two together. Realizing that Riggs had been lucid enough to hear his conversation with Cahill, he had assumed his lunatic of a partner would head straight for Kensington's last known whereabouts.

Holding the phone safely away from his eardrums, Roger let Avery's rant go mostly unheard. Tossing out a 'yes sir' and 'of course sir' every few sentences while he scanned the streets of LA for his psychotic partner.

A familiar outline topped with a scraggly heap of hair and clad in a familiar jacket half walked half dragged himself across the street ahead.

"No, Captain. I do not know what he was thinking. Yes, he is indeed an idiot. Of course, I will bring him in if I find him. No, I have no idea where he could be...Sorry, Captain, bad reception zone I hav…t…go." Roger hung up and threw the cell into the back seat of the car as he pulled alongside a struggling Riggs.

He rolled down the window keeping pace with his partner.

"You look like shit." Roger offered with a smile he didn't quite feel.

"Go away, Rog." Riggs rumbled through gritted teeth.

"I would, but you look like you're about to fall down and what kind of person would I be if I left you passed out on the sidewalk. What if someone tripped over you?" He jested in an attempt to lift the dark cloud weighing on Riggs's shoulders.

A loud horn pierced the air as angry drivers presented their disdain at the intrusion on the road.

Roger leaned out of the window still moving forwards a few miles an hour.

"LAPD business, go around!" He bellowed while presenting his badge and gesturing widely around his vehicle.

"You gonna get in or what?" Roger asked impatiently.

"I actually kind of like the fresh LA air. Besides, never underestimate what a leisurely stroll can do for your health, Rog." Riggs smiled, followed by a slight wince that he tried to hide with a smirk.

"Riggs, get in the damn car!" Roger ordered more harshly, slightly worried by the dark red patch resting behind Riggs left shoulder.

"I'm not going back to the hospital Rog. I'm not a fan of the places; they don't hold the best memory's you know?" Riggs argued softly with a sideways tilt of his head.

Roger was quiet for a moment before deciding on a plan.

"Okay, no hospitals. I think I have an alternative you won't oppose too much.

Riggs stopped walking.

"Rog, this isn't your fight."

"Don't insult me, Riggs. When have my fights ever been mine alone? Would you ever let me pull the shit you just did and get away with it?" Roger reasoned.

"This is different."

"Are you trying to tell me you don't think I can do this? You think I'm too old and outdated to take down a guy like Kensington. This the kind of case only an ex-Army Ranger can handle, huh? Because if that's it…if you don't think I can hang with the big boys, then you obviously don't trust me as your partner. I just had Avery on the line; I will call him back and let him know you are requesting a transfer." Roger reached for his phone; his tone littered with anger.

"That's not what I said."

"Isn't it?!" Roger countered.

Riggs looked Roger dead in the eyes, his pain stricken features now from more than just his injuries. He silently opened the door and struggled into the passenger seat.

"I'm still going after Kensington," Riggs stated, his tone stuck somewhere between motivation and resignation.

"WE, are still going after Kensington. You promised to do this my way remember?" Roger shot back.

Riggs scratched the back of his head in uncertainty.

"So, what's your plan?" Riggs inquired as he rested his head back against the seat.

"Oh, don't worry. I think you will like it. We gotta get you patched up again before we go after Kensington. If I'm right, and I normally am, he won't go far. And Riggs…"

"Yea, Rog?" Riggs asked from behind closed eyelids.

"If you get blood on my upholstery, so help me God, Kensington will be the least of your problems."

* * *

"This is highly unorthodox." Scorsese complained as he fed the last stitch through Riggs' shoulder.

"Unorthodox is his middle name." Roger smiled as he waited for the pathologist to finish his work.

Riggs could feel the cold metallic table through the denim of his jeans. The air in the autopsy room was unsettlingly clean and the sneaking around to avoid Avery had sapped the majority of his energy. He didn't want to let his partner know how truly tired he felt, lest he decide to call off their manhunt for Kensington. He decided to redirect attention from his pitiful situation.

He shot Roger a glance, soundlessly accepting the bait laid by his partner.

"I think it's nice for us all to hang out like this. We should do it more often, maybe next time Roger will even bring you your own coffee, huh, Scorsese?." Riggs smiled before grunting slightly as Scorsese tied off his stitches a little too roughly.

"Sorry Detective, I'm not used to working on living specimens." Scorsese apologized with a crude smile causing Roger to laugh.

"Can you not refer to me as a specimen…its creepy." Riggs complained, his tone bordering on a whine.

"Just be happy he agreed to do it at all. Besides it could be worse, I could've gotten Trish to do it."

The two men shared a glance filled with fear at the prospect.

"I need to change these dressings." Scorsese looked to Riggs for permission.

"What's wrong with these ones?" Riggs questioned obliviously.

This time Roger and Scorsese shared a look.

"Really?" Scorsese gave Riggs a skeptical glance. "They are saturated in your blood."

Riggs simply shrugged at the revelation allowing Scorsese to remove the blood soaked bandages and replace them with fresh ones.

"You didn't happen to grab any of your prescribed antibiotics from the pharmacy before you got here?"

"That would be a negative," Riggs answered.

Scorsese sighed and handed him a bottle from the table.

"You're lucky Detective Murtaugh called ahead."

"What would you do without me?" Roger added helping Riggs into a clean shirt.

"He would die of infection," Scorsese responded dryly.

"And I would be very sad..." Roger added less convincingly.

"You know, if you two hadn't just patched me up, I would think you didn't like me all that much." Riggs hopped off of the cadaver table grasping his side at the motion, a small murmur of pain escaping his lips.

Riggs received a questionable glance from the pathologist before he turned on his heal seemingly giving up on the detective.

Riggs looked to Roger innocently in question.

"What?"

"Nothing, let's just get you out of here before The Captain finds us," Roger concluded.

Riggs made his way over to the door, refusing to loose pace over a few injuries. He hoped they would find Kensington sooner, rather than later. He wasn't sure just how long he could run on adrenaline alone.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter; brought to you by the jittery hyperactivity fueled by four Redbull's and multiple coffees. If the next chapter is late, it's because my heart exploded.

Just kidding, I hate being late. Heart explosion or no, the fourth chapter will be up by next Sunday, if not before.

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to follow and review.


	4. Chapter 4

This will be the last chapter. As much as I didn't want it to end I felt that the story had nowhere else to go but to its conclusion. Please enjoy the final piece to the story.

A great big thank you to all that deemed it worth a review and followed or favorited, it makes all the hard work worthwhile.

I apologize for the repost, as rapid as it was, of this chapter. Due to computer issues I had to post this from my tablet and it is, quite frankly, a giant asshole.

* * *

 **Rope**

Chapter Four

By the time they made it back to the car, the sun had long since given up its hold on the California sky.

Roger watched the sharp headlights cut through the dusk illuminating his partner's too pale face. Riggs' unusually slow gait and tendency to pause for a few extra moments before exiting the elevator and climbing into the car reminded Rog of his partner's current limitations.

He sighed uncomfortably as the guilt rose in his chest. Riggs always had his back; it seemed mostly in uneven proportions. If he had to count, he was sure Riggs would come out on top. He wondered if what had happened at the Voyager earlier counted as points against him.

His partner had trusted him to be there when Kensington made an appearance. Instead, he was the unwilling participant in a trap laid just for Riggs; A plan that could have cost him far more than some stitches and blood loss.

"Hey, when this is over you're going back to the hospital, okay?" Roger stated offering a stern, yet pleading look at his partner.

"What kind of a thing is that to say to a guy, Rog?! You think I'm gonna get shot or something?" Riggs half smiled, returning Rogers glance.

"I actually meant for the bullet hole already in you, but if that's what it takes." Roger shrugged. "and put your seatbelt on." He added as he buckled his own.

Riggs didn't move; he stared at Roger for a moment before deciding to ignore the request.

"Riggs, I'm not starting this car until you buckle your damn seatbelt." He chided.

"Jeez, Rog. You don't havta go all mother hen on me just cuz I lost a bit of blood."

"If we were going five miles per hour and you were surrounded by pillows, you would still find a way to go through the windshield. I just don't want to have to fix a Riggs' sized hole in my window is all."

"That's reassuring, you planning on doing some evasive driving in the near future?" Riggs queried.

"Maybe to get away from you."

"You know, I've been shot and stabbed today and what you just said hurt more than BOTH of those things." Riggs drawled. His burnt umber eyes filled with artificial sorrow and leveled at Roger, a half smile lining his lips.

Roger raised his hands in defeat. His guilt and need to protect his partner having been covertly swept under a rug of jibes and one-liners.

"Just put it on," Roger mumbled as he put his foot on the gas.

Riggs obeyed without another word. He settled into the seat clearly overcome by the little exertion needed to jest with his partner. He laid his head back and stared at the road.

Roger's concern at his partners rapidly declining energy levels was sidelined by the chime of his cell.

"Murtaugh." He answered as Bailey's voice rolled over the line.

"Is Riggs with you?"

"Are you with the Captain?" Roger whispered.

"No, just me and Cruz." Bailey specified in slight confusion.

"Yeah, he's with me. What's up?" Roger answered in relief.

"We just got the report back from Scorsese; he pulled red and white strands from a Petzl Arial Dry Climbing Rope from the burns on the vic's neck."

"Kensington wore a red and white rope around his jeans. He's our killer." Roger added.

"There's more; we got an ID on the vic. A guy called in a missing person's report for a Lukas Fischer. He's a tourist from Germany. Apparently, his friend left him at the club and went home with a girl. He guessed something was up when his friend didn't come back to the hotel the next day. We think it was a case of wrong place, wrong time. Kensington needed a body to get Riggs' attention."

"Makes sense, Kensington said he had dropped his name all around town to get Riggs on his tail. It's not a big leap to assume he killed a guy for the same reason; a body gets LAPD moving faster than hearsay."

"How is he? He had us all worried on this end." Bailey's voice lost its confident tone, falling into that of uncertainty.

Roger looked over to the passenger seat. Riggs sat motionlessly slouched into the chair. His arm cradled protectively to his chest to ward against the bumps in the road and his eyes closed; seemingly oblivious to the phone conversation going on right next to him.

"Been better. The quicker this is over with, the better for all of us."

There was hesitation across the line, a sharp intake of breath and then a short sigh.

"Bailey, what is it?" Roger pushed inquisitively.

After another brief bout of silence, Bailey responded.

"It's Kensington, there have been two more hits on the BOLO. Tips called in by anonymous informants. He was spotted once on Greenwood and again on Encinita." Bailey paused once more. "Murtaugh, if he's not up to it Cruz and I can…"

"No, we got this, Bailey. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but we got this." He ended the call, turning to his partner.

"That was Bailey, she said…"

"Greenwood and Encinita, I heard her." Riggs finished, still unmoving.

Roger shot a dumbfounded stare in Riggs' direction.

"You know it's rude to eavesdrop," Roger remarked.

"And it's rude to talk loudly when someone's attempting to get a little shuteye Rog, but I forgive you. Now, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Riggs jumped from his tranquil stupor quickly switching the sirens on, the wince and his unusually pale pallor didn't go unnoticed.

Riggs tilted his head thoughtfully before looking to Rog.

"What do Arcadia, Greenwood, and Encinita all have in common?" Riggs challenged.

"They are all street names." Roger offered, knowing that wasn't what Riggs was looking for.

"Well yeah, but more importantly, they all surround the same auto repair shop. The place went out of business a few months back; I bet it's still empty. That, and the smell Buddy mentioned and that I had the pleasure of experiencing firsthand back at the Voyager fits; Kensington reeked of gasoline."

"you think he's hiding out at the repair shop?"

"He wants to be found. He's leaving pretty large breadcrumbs, Rog."

"That means he will be waiting for us," Roger warned.

"It means he will be waiting for me." Riggs corrected.

"We already went over this, Riggs! You're not going in alone, don't think I didn't notice that you can barely even walk."

"I don't have to go in alone. Kensington just has to think that I am."

"So, you want to go in as bait?"

"He won't see you coming. It's the only way to get the upper hand on him, Rog. Trust me; I can do this." He paused and offered Roger a smile. "and if I can't, you have my six." Riggs brown eyes settled on Roger, his gaze composed of resolution and conviction.

"Fine, but at the first sign of trouble I'm shooting the bastard."

"I'm okay with that." Riggs settled back into his seat.

The glare of oncoming headlights merged into a fine stream of white light as they made their way to Kensington's supposed location.

Riggs peeked one eye curiously towards Roger as he shifted his weight.

"I forgot to ask you. How did you ditch your escort?" He asked impishly.

"I asked him to go get me a sandwich," Roger answered proudly.

"And he just up and left, no questions asked? how did you manage that?"

"I gave him a fifty-dollar bill and told him to keep the change." Roger chuckled.

"LAPD' s finest, I wouldn't want to be around when Avery catches up to him."

"I don't want to be around when Avery catches up to us." Roger groaned.

"How about after this, we join a traveling circus and learn to fly from shooting cannons?" Riggs suggested. A mischievous grin across his scruffy face.

"Nah, that sounds far too safe, you would get bored and drive me crazy."

"You would be a terrible circus performer anyway. No pizzazz." Riggs countered.

"Pizzazz?" Roger's brow crinkled in question.

"You heard me." Riggs smiled and closed his eyes, ending the conversation.

* * *

They pulled up to the back of the empty building. A few scattered 'for sale' signs lay ignored in the dusty windows. Darkness consumed the space except for a few flickering street lights and the half-illuminated entrance way.

"How do you wanna do this?" Roger asked.

Riggs brushed his hair to the side with a shaky hand. He wasn't sure how long he could keep up the charade, but he knew he wasn't fooling his partner. The question was, could he fool Kensington?

"I go in the front, you take the back and stay out of sight."

"How do you know Kensington won't just shoot you as soon as he sees you?"

"I don't, but if it looks like he has an itchy trigger finger I'll say the safety word."

"What's the safety word?"

"Cannon." Riggs smiled as he left Roger and headed for the front of the building.

The smell of gasoline intensified as he pushed past the unlocked door. The garage was lit by a scattering of bench lights that did little to illuminate the expansive space.

Riggs wandered slowly into the center of the room, partly in caution of the murderer hiding amongst its shadows and partly due to the intense ache permeating his being. He felt the heavy pull of complete fatigue dull as his senses rose to full alert, adrenaline pushing his feet forwards.

"That's far enough Detective." A familiar voice taunted from the darkness.

Riggs raised his Barretta to the source of the commotion.

"It took you long enough to find me, Riggs. Now, be a good guest and put the gun down." Kensington taunted from behind a young blonde. The woman gasping desperately for air as Kensington tightened his grip on the red and white rope cutting into her neck. His weapon pointed in Riggs direction.

Riggs didn't have to think twice; he tossed his weapon across the garage hiding a grimace as he raised his hands in surrender.

"Let the woman go, Kensington. You have what you wanted. I'm here, just let her go." Riggs implored darkly.

"Get on your Knees," Kensington ordered calmly, a hateful scowl held just beyond the surface.

Again, Riggs complied, silently thankful that he no longer had to stand.

"Do you know why I came looking for you Detective?" Kensington asked, his grip on his captive unwavering.

"LET HER GO!" Riggs yelled as the woman started to pass out from the lack of oxygen.

The sound of the gun firing barely registered as he stared directly into Kensington's eyes. He felt the flush of air pass by his left thigh, followed by a searing pain in its wake.

"ANSWER the question, Detective," Kensington responded feverishly, attempting to reign in his composure as he spoke.

Riggs shook his head, knowing his partner was ready to jump in at any moment. The round had just grazed his skin; Kensington didn't want him dead yet.

"No, I don't." He submitted. He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding as Kensington slightly loosened the rope around the woman's neck.

"It's because you remind me of myself. The way you relentlessly hunted me from state to state for all those months, your obsession with spontaneity, your complete disregard for your well-being. We are the same. I hunt my targets with the same fury you do, I act just as impulsively, and I too, don't give a rats ass about what happens to me; why should I? Nobody else ever has."

Riggs laughter filled the space between them, unsettling Kensington.

"The same? You think we are the same?" He laughed again. This time Kensington aimed the weapon dead at Riggs' chest as he continued to enrage him.

"We are nothing alike. I've felt what it is to have someone care for you above all else. I've read your file, nobody has EVER wanted you Kensington. You have NEVER known what it is to be loved. That's because you don't deserve it you murdering little fuck!" Riggs taunted.

Kensington's grip on the gun tightened as his dark emerald eyes became rabid, his attention pulled from the woman in his grasp.

Riggs saw the control falter. He just had to push a little more.

"SHUT UP! THAT'S NOT, YOU'RE NOT…FUCKING SHUT UP!" Kensington screamed, his hold over the hostage wavering.

"When it comes down to it, you're just the haunted little kid nobody wanted. You're just a reject, a failure, a loose cannon."

Kensington stalked toward Riggs; the hostage tossed aside, forgotten. He fired twice before being thrown backward.

Riggs dove for cover with the last of his remaining strength, knowing that Kensington would disregard the hostage to stop his taunts.

Roger quickly made his way to the hostage. He stepped over a still Kensington, blood blossoming over the left side of his chest. He kicked the gun from his unmoving fingers before helping the woman sit up. He gave her a brief once over before rushing to Riggs side.

"Riggs?" A shaky voice called in worried question.

Roger carefully turned his partner onto his back checking for fresh injuries, finding none other than the flesh wound across his leg he sighed in relief.

Bleary eyes stared back at him as Riggs fought through the pain he had been suppressing for too many hours.

"She okay?" He nodded to the scared woman sitting across from him.

"shaken up, but she's alive. Thanks to your stupid, albeit, heroic actions."

"Come on, Rog. That's what we in the industry call Pizzazz." Riggs smiled.

* * *

Riggs sat, his legs dangling from the side of the hospital bed, listening to the conversation being had outside the room. He had already liberated himself from the IV and monitor and waited not so patiently to be sprung from his unnecessary captivity. They had forced a sling on him and patched him up, as far as he was concerned he was ready to go.

"He should stay the next forty-eight hours for observation." A stern voice argued.

"look, he won't stay here for more than two. I guarantee he will find a way to liberate himself from this place, even if he has to climb out of the window, again. Trust me, let me take him home. I will make sure he gets all the rest he needs." Roger argued in his defense.

"I'm sorry, Detective. As his acting physician, I can't allow it."

"But…"

"My answer is final." The doctor asserted.

Harsh footsteps faded in the distance as another set made their way into the room.

"Hey, sorry. I gave it all the Murtaugh charm I had, but no dice. You are stuck here for the next forty-eight hours."

Riggs sighed and lay back down across the narrow hospital bed. He placed his good arm behind his head as his other lay trapped in its sling prison.

"You tried, I appreciate it Rog" Riggs yawned. "About today, about everything you did, I…"

"No need to thank me."

"I wasn't gonna thank you; I was gonna yell at you for not ordering me a sandwich when you ditched your escort." He complained.

"I wasn't ordering a sandwich, Riggs! I was just getting rid of my babysitter!"

"It's the thought that counts," Riggs stated from behind closed eyelids.

Roger let out an indignant yelp and threw his hands into the air.

"Seriously? I cannot believe you sometimes, I…"

Riggs drifted off to Rogers rant. Happy that everything was back to normal; at least, as normal as their unique circumstances allowed.

* * *

The room was blissfully silent except for the quiet hum of hospital apparatus reverberating throughout the space. The sun was beginning to rise as the soft shuffling of nurses and orderlies added to the commotion, marking the start of the day shift.

"How did you get him to stay?" Avery asked as he assessed the sleeping detective.

"I bribed the doctor to refuse to let him leave no matter how hard I argued the point; it didn't take much convincing once she saw the state of the patient." Roger smiled mischievously.

"You know you are not off the hook for the shit you two pulled over the last twenty-four hours, right?" Avery added.

"Oh, come on, Captain. We caught the bad guy, saved the hostage, and closed the case. What more could you ask for?"

"Do it in a way that keeps you both out of this place, and maybe we can talk."

The silence between them said it all.

"Okay, let me have his Jell-O cup and we can call it even." Avery offered.

"Done!" Roger handed the small red container to the captain and made his way to the empty chair in the corner of the room.

"All joking aside, good work today," Avery added with a tip of his newly acquired Jell-O cup.

Roger nodded as Avery left, resting his eyes upon his slumbering partner.

"That was my only Jell-O cup, wasn't it?"

Roger jumped, slightly startled by his partner's sudden statement.

"Damn it, Riggs, don't do that!" He complained.

"And you bribed the doctors? I do not approve of your recent behavior. Frankly, as your partner, I am concerned." Riggs tilted his chin up from it's restful position.

"That, Riggs, is the Murtaugh version of Pizzazz." Roger smiled.

* * *

I have a few new Lethal Weapon pieces in the works. I hope to have one out by next week since we have a whole month without the show and will need something to quell our Riggs withdrawal.

Thanks for reading, please review if you enjoyed and would like to read more from this category.

Also, how amazing was "Jingle Bell Glock"?! I loved the depth of character displayed and introduction of tantalizing new plot lines. I cannot wait for the shows return.


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